


Realism in Dreaming

by kibasniper



Category: Puyo Puyo (Video Games), 魔導物語 | Madou Monogatari Series (Video Games)
Genre: Dungeon, End of the World, Final Battle, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Other, Past Lives, Planet Destruction, Psychological Trauma, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 02:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15898947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibasniper/pseuds/kibasniper
Summary: It's the end of the world as Rulue knows it, and she's not fine as the bodies of her friends keep piling up. She wants to wake up, but she does in another world.





	Realism in Dreaming

Rich copper filled her nose, a scent that had tormented her for too long. Rulue raced through countless corridors, darting over corpses of friends and foes alike. She avoided puddles of blood and scattered limbs, rotting flesh scorching her eyes and nose. Rulue breathed through her mouth, her fists pumping in tandem with her bruised legs. Sweat trickled down her forehead and mingled with her eyes, but she blinked it all away, hoping she could have done the same for reality.

She hesitated when she came across the corpse of Draco Centauros. Rulue gnawed on her lip, observing the way Draco’s wings and tail were torn asunder, the bone and tissue poking out from her graying flesh. Draco’s mouth was drawn into a scream, and Rulue grimaced, wishing she could have done something more. Kneeling by her, Rulue gripped Draco’s chin and forced it upwards, shutting her mouth. With two fingers, she set them to Draco’s eyelids and allowed Draco to finally rest. She looked peaceful now as if she was having a dreamless slumber.

Rulue continued moving, the murky dungeon feeling as it it would collapse at any moment. She tried to remember which way she had gone, but it was all the same. All around her was the pungent stench of death swirling into her nostrils. She covered her face, hunching forward and ambling away from the bodies of the Banshee Trio, each clinging to one another in their final moments.

She continued to run. Arle needed her. Schezo’s sacrifice couldn’t be allowed to be in vain. The fleeting thought of where Lala was crossed her thoughts, but she pressed onwards in Lyla’s Ruins.

She hesitated at a damp crossroads, pausing to catch her breath and look around. The dungeon split into several paths, each covered with carcasses of Dog Men and mythical beasts. Her skin crawled with sweat and goosebumps, leaving her slick and cool despite the oppressive humidity swarming in the filthy air. Rulue glanced around, wondering where each path would take her.

She had to smirk. All paths ended in death. Even as Arle battled the Creator, their world quaked, rattled with decimation and bloodshed as it was shredded into nothingness. She looked at her palms, finding they were trembling, and she clenched her hands into white-knuckled fists.

It was the end of the world. Rulue knew that very well, and she chose the forward path. She raced down it, shouting Arle’s name in hopes she could help her. At the very least, she wanted to be with a friend who had been kind to her, but her thoughts trailed off to the man she loved.

Satan had been around for a brief time only to vanish. Even when she called his name, he refused to answer. She pondered if he was helping Arle defeat the Creator. A being with Satan’s immense power should have easily taken down a god, but she was not so enamored with him that she refused to see facts. A god contained much more power than anyone, even her beloved prince, but she clung to fruitless hope.

An earthquake ripped from underneath her feet, parting the very earth and shooting lightning bolt cracks on the surface. She swallowed her shriek, her hand fumbling above her head as she clutched a clammy stalactite. Cool water trickled down her arms and stained her face.

Rulue peered at the ground, her eyes widening as heat suddenly slammed against her face. Red hot lava bubbled, emerging from the cracks, and she winced, wishing she had known some kind of levitation spell. Clinging to the stalactite, she wrapped her entire body around it as the lava rose, spreading like ooze.

A scream echoed from the end of the corridor. The headless body of Scylla slammed down, quickly devoured by lava, and Rulue prayed her death was swift. Destruction spared no one. The finality of her world had come, and all were left as its helpless victims.

Rulue felt her grip slip, and she leaped onto the next stalactite, moving again and again until she could touch the ground, inches away from the lava. She raced once more, her thoughts focusing on the Creator. Where the next strike would come left her uncertain.

Arle must have still been fighting. Her battle had only lasted two long, strenuous years, and there was already so much death. Almost everyone she knew was gone. She had hoped Witch was still out there somewhere, but she had lost contact with her months ago. The last thing she heard was a disgruntled yelp over a radio during a reconnaissance mission on the Creator before static crackled on Witch’s end.

Even Minotauros was gone. He died protecting her, shoving Rulue out of the way before the earth could swallow her up. Before she could reach down for him, he pushed her away as the world rumbled once more, sacrificing himself so she could flee. His final words were devoured by chaos.

The world shuddered, and the ruins roared. Rulue covered her ears, her heart slamming in her chest as debris fell around her. She had immersed herself in Lyla’s Ruins hoping to find anything to help against the Creator, but she found nothing. Like before, she was left with nothing and no one at her side.

Rulue slammed her fist into a brick wall, her brow furrowing and eyes blurring with unshed tears. She smashed her knuckles against it until they were raw and bloody, the pain nothing compared to what her friends had endured. She tried to breathe but could only gasp as the world continued rocking.

Her thoughts returned to Arle. The faintest whispering of spells taunted her ears, and she knew Arle was fighting with all her might. Rulue stared at the ceiling, knowing Arle was beyond was her grasp, but she still needed to help. Somehow, she knew she was needed in that final battle.

She remembered Schezo, and she gripped her chest, glancing at the steadily increasing lava. His broken body entered her head, paralyzing her. Fear struck deep into her soul. She knew it was inevitable that she would become like Schezo, Draco, Minotauros, and so many others who fell during the decisive battle, but she wanted to live. She screamed at herself to live and move, and she took shakier steps, the light at the end of the tunnel beckoning her forward.

She ran. Rulue darted for the exit as she gripped the cloth wrapped around her waist. She clutched the smooth metal hilt of Minotauros’ axe, and she wrenched it above her head as she emerged, the brightness almost blinding her.

Lightning flashed across the ebony sky, and thunder roared, the battle cry of the world as it died. Natural disasters took hold as hurricanes, earthquakes, and tornados rampaged throughout the land. 

She saw a strange figure like that of a round blob floating in the distance, but when she blinked, it was gone. Rulue shook her head, deeming it as a mirage. She would never remember, but the creature would.

Fire scorned the formerly rich forests. Villagers and homes were nothing but bits of bark, wood, and bricks. Death contaminated and spread like a plague, sparing no one. Suketoudara was face-up in in an empty, filthy pond, his eyes open, but his his proud legs were no longer there. Seriri and Merrow were the same, their lower halves gone, their pride as mermaids vanished.

Rulue stepped forward as the battle raged on in the sky. She spotted Arle casting a healing spell on herself, nearly avoiding an icy gail from the Creator, and the beam crashed down on the planet, decimating another speck of the world. People screamed, and they were immediately silenced.

Clutching her axe, Rulue raced towards the fight in the distance. Her roar ripped free from her throat, matching the ferocity of the tornado racing straight for her. Leftover scraps of trees were heaved from the world, roots and all torn free and were thrust into the sky. As debris aimed for her, Rulue leaped onto it all, using them as stepping stones to throw herself at the center of the tornado.

She steeled herself, sharp stones and wind slicing her arms in the tornado. She jumped upwards, using whatever she could even as the wind whipped her body, but she was powerful. Her training prepared her for chaos. Not even nature could halt her fury. No one could, not anymore.

Rulue leaped up through the tornado, her axe held high above her head. Her war cry alerted Arle and the Creator to her presence, and she slammed the axe square down into an eye of the beast, carving it clean out. Its devastated scream delighted her ears, and she bellowed for Arle to end it as the Creator’s warm blood and visceral fluid stained her body and dress. 

Yet, it was all she could say. A claw pierced through her chest, and she saw her skewered heart. Satan crossed her thoughts, but Arle was there, screeching her name. Arle howled and so did she, one out of horror and the other in rage as the axe slipped from her hands.

Then, she woke up and screamed at the darkness.

Rulue bolted out of bed, sweat dampening her brow. Tears raced down her cheeks, and her linen sleeping dress clung to her skin. Her muscles, tense and sore, felt like they were burning. She stomped around in her room, holding her face and streaking her fingers through her disheveled hair. Panting dried her tongue.

She collapsed, her knees knocking as they smacked the cold tiles of one of the many guest rooms in Satan’s castle. Hiccups bubbled in her throat as her teeth chattered. It felt as if she was dumped in arctic, surrounded by nothing but chilling ice. Rulue searched for warmth and found nothing except her hands gripping her forearms. Even the illuminating torches lining her walls felt like they were far away.

Her door inched open, and jolted by the creaking sound, Rulue looked up, detesting her pathetic appearance. Satan stood there, Draco peering over his shoulder with a curious look. Rulue blinked away her tears as he asked what was wrong, having heard her shriek.

She stumbled to her feet, losing herself in his arms as he grimaced. She buried her face into his neck, sobbing like a child as Draco tilted her head, a small smirk on her face. Rulue quivered, stiff and terrified as Satan leaned away, his hands on her shoulders.

“Wow, Rulue! I didn’t know you were this desperate to get a little action from the big guy,” Draco sneered, but to her bewilderment, Rulue embraced her as well. A shrill yelp echoed from the back of her throat, and she flailed, tail slapping the ground. “A-ah! What-what the-what are you doing? Rulue, l-let go of me!”

She obeyed, surprising the duo. Draco and Satan exchanged a confused glance, and Satan ordered her to fetch Minotauros. Shrugging, Draco did as she was asked and ambled away.

“What’s the matter, Rulue? I’ve never seen you so stricken before,” Satan said, his lies smooth on his tongue.

“I-it was a nightmare, but it felt so real,” Rulue murmured, and she sighed. “That sounds like some cheap line in a story. Forgive me for saying something so cheesy.”

“Well, it must’ve been some nightmare,” Satan teased, grinning, and she returned his smile, her heart fluttering. He coaxed her on to the bed, sitting next to her.“So, tell me. What happened?”

She repeated her nightmare in the best details that she could remember. Corpses filled her head, and ichor still tainted each sniff she took. She noticed that Satan remained neutral, his eyes only widening when she mentioned Arle fighting a strange creature, one she could not remember. She rubbed her head, feeling like there was more to say. It was right on her tongue when Satan interjected.

“But it was just a dream, and dreams can’t hurt you. You’re a bright woman of eighteen, you know,” Satan said, patting her thigh, and Rulue blushed, suddenly feeling so foolish for confiding in him, “but I think you should rest in your own abode from now on. I don’t mind you crashing here, but I guess my castle gives off a creepy vibe. That might’ve caused it.”

“O-o-oh, do you think so?” Rulue leaned next to him, resting her head on his tense shoulder. She rubbed small circles on his chest with her index finger. “Perhaps I could sleep with you, Satan-sama? That would really-”

“I’m back!” Draco announced, rushing into the room with Minotauros hot on her heels.

“Ah, perfect timing!” Satan blurted, hurrying to his feet. Taking Rulue’s hand, he offered her to Minotauros. “I believe she is going home with you, but don’t be strangers now. Maybe come around when it’s daytime so you won’t be weirded out, Rulue.”

“B-but Satan-sama…” Rulue trailed off, huffing as Minotauros asked if she was okay. She glared up at him only to soften, his body suddenly lying on the floor in front of her. Her breathing constricted, but Satan touched her back.

“It was only a dream, Rulue. You have nothing to fear, not anymore,” Satan insisted, and Rulue hummed, calmed by his words.

“Yes, of course,” she crooned, looking over her shoulder. She withdrew her fan from a nearby silver shelf and slipped on her footwear. Clutching her fan like a small knife, she said, “Come, Minotauros. Let’s return home.”

As Minotauros nodded and hobbled behind her, Rulue couldn’t shake of her fear. The goosebumps remained on her skin like cursed warts. She shuddered with each step. Even if she was complacent with Satan, she still felt like crying as she left Satan’s castle.

“Man, that was weird,” Draco snapped, wrapping her arms behind her head. Yawning, she cracked her back and plummeted into Rulue’s bed. “Well, if she’s outta here, then I get this comfy bed! Perfect for a gorgeous girl like me! Yahoo!”

Satan brushed his hair out of his eyes, ignoring Draco sneering about the qualities of his guest bed. Turning away, he strode out of the room and shut the metal door behind him. Pressing against it, Satan covered his mouth and closed his eyes.

Dreams from the other world entered his reality. Memories surfaced and were repressed upon waking up. If it kept up, he was not exactly sure what he would do.

Satan walked the lonely halls of his castle accompanied by memories of the dogged past, one he shrouded himself. Casting doubt and reassurance was all he could do to ensure the livelihood of his paradise. Satan murmured to himself that he was right, that he had made the best decision in the end, but the voices of the other world hissed in his ears throughout the blistering, black night.


End file.
